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Back Below the Belt Save as PDF
Chapters (67)
  1. Cover
  2. BOOKS BY STUART WOODS
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
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  65. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  66. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  67. What’s next onyour reading list?

Welcome to your new home! Everything you see in the house is now yours. My L.A. house is already furnished, so all I took with me were my clothes and a few pictures. You’ll have fun shopping for replacements. I’ve attached a list of numbers for the best restaurants, the maid and cook, the gardener, a handyman, and others you might need. By the way, the hot tub is set to 100 degrees. Feel free to call for advice, and enjoy yourself!

Gala

“That was sweet of her,” Holly said. “I like the sound of the hot tub.”

“Then let’s go find it,” Stone said. “Bring your drink.”

2

STONE AND HOLLY FOUND THE house with his rental-car GPS; it was big, set into a hillside, and had quite a lot of guest parking. He found a spot and they walked toward the front door. A figure stepped out of the darkness: “Mr. Barrington?”

“Yes.”

The man showed him a badge. “Secret Service. May I see some ID, please?”

Stone showed him his New York driver’s license.

“Got anything federal-issued?”

Stone showed him his pilot’s license.

“This way, please. Just you, not the lady.”

“Holly, will you go ahead inside? I’ll join you shortly.”

Holly climbed the steps, rang the bell, and was admitted. The agent led Stone to a large black SUV and rapped on the window. The door opened, and he motioned for Stone to get in.

“Evening, Stone,” Will Lee said, putting aside his New York Times. “How are you?” The agent closed the door, and the only sound Stone could hear was the air-conditioning.

“Very well, Will.”

“Forgive me for ambushing you, but once we’re inside, everyone will be watching.”

“What’s up?”

Will turned his body more toward Stone. “I want to tell you a story, some of which you’ll already know about.”

“All right.”

“Would you like a drink? We have Knob Creek.”

“Sure, thanks.”

Will opened a compartment in front of them and extracted two glasses, some ice, and a bottle of the bourbon and poured them both one. “Happier days,” Will said.

“Are these not happy ones?” Stone asked, taking a swig.

“Think of this as the first day of the election season,” Will said, “though we have a long way to go. The election season is never happy, just frenetic, and often depressing.”

“I suppose you’re right. What’s the story?”

“It begins on a December day in Washington more than ten years ago. We were flying down to Georgia for Christmas, so we left our house in Georgetown and drove up to Silver Spring Airport, where we kept our airplane, at that time a new Piper Mirage. As I was doing my preflight, a marine helicopter set down next to us, and a young officer got out and told me that the vice president would like us to join him and his wife for breakfast at Camp David.